The Murder Game
by NancyMay
Summary: An Alice and Matthew story. Lucien and Jean are away so Alice is called upon to act as police surgeon, which also means running the Superintendant around and getting more involved than usual.


Alice stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom. A woman faced her, neat haircut, impeccable makeup. Her face; two eyes, a nose and a mouth, all standard issue although she had always regarded her nose as a little too obvious. Not a pretty face, but, well... She shrugged her shoulders.

She undressed slowly, blouse, skirt, slip and stood in her bra and foundation garments and stockings. She unclipped the stockings and rolled them down and off her feet, revealing well shaped thighs, shapely calves and well turned ankles. Her feet were just feet, no polish on her toenails, but well trimmed.

She removed the rest of the underwear and stood naked in front of the mirror. She had to admit she had a good figure, firm neat breasts, a flat stomach, the triangle of hair over the mons pubis the only thing detracting from the tidy form, that, and the little mole on her right hip. She tried to imagine what she would say if the body were before her in the mortuary.

'Female, age thirty five to forty five, well nourished, height, five foot six.' Then she would look at the extremities, 'unmarried, well manicured nails, no calluses, not a manual worker. Soft skin from a good skincare routine.'

'You're nothing remarkable, Alice.' she sighed, taking her robe off the bed, 'so why would the superintendant be in the slightest bit interested in you?' She headed to her bathroom and stood under the shower, letting the warm water flow over her head. The advantage, she mused, of the new hair cut is that it took less bother than longer waves.

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Matthew Lawson stood, just about upright, in front of the mirror in his bedroom. He had driven Alice Harvey home from dinner at the Blake's. At least he could do that, now he had an automatic car, rather than a manual gear shift though he couldn't use it for work.

His face creased in pain, he should take some painkillers, really. Alice would make sure he did, if she cared. But why should she?

He undressed to his boxers, studiously avoiding looking at the scars on his knee, the scars that his best friend, Dr Lucien Blake, had tried to make tidy, unobtrusive, but the damage had been too great for that. Matthew always saw them for what they were, an indication he was less of a man. If he ignored the leg he saw a strong, well built, muscular man. Smooth chest, stomach not yet developing a paunch, well maybe a little, but not that noticeable. Good muscular thighs and well developed calves. Not bad for a man of his age and wear.

He pulled on a pair of pyjama trousers and got into bed, lying on his back, hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

Alice Harvey was a curious woman. Sometimes her plain speaking was almost childlike, but not childish, strangely unnerving. She was oddly unaware of the people around her if she wanted to ask a question of a vaguely personal nature. Her curiosity getting the better of her. He drifted off to sleep, the memory of her asking if his knee troubled him in the damp weather, or if it was easier in the warmth, in which case surely a warm bath in the evening and morning would help. He nearly suggested she run it for him, thank god he didn't, she probably would have!

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Alice towelled her hair dry and ran a comb through it, picking up her hair dryer and roughly fingering the last of the moisture out of it. She would wash it properly in the morning, and style it.

She slipped, naked, between the sheets, vaguely thinking it might be nice to lie against Matthew's naked body. She imagined the muscles hitherto hidden under his uniform, strong, well defined.

'Be honest, Alice, there have been few who wanted to take you to bed. She admonished herself, 'you push them away when they try to get close and those that did, at university, did it for a bet.' She was under no illusion about that, having heard the gossip and sniggers, that was when she buried herself in her studies, the books didn't judge her, that and, for her, it was all rather disappointing.

Maybe Matthew would be different.

She slept as well as she ever did, that is to say, not well at all. Her mind was always whirring around, with cases and noises in her head. She never seemed to be able to switch off. She was used to it, now.

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Life went on for both Alice and Matthew, cases, autopsies discussions over dinner at the Blake's, reports dropped on the desk, and neither spoke except in a professional capacity.

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'Mortuary, Dr Harvey speaking,' she answered the phone one Friday, Lucien being in Adelaide with Jean. 'Superintendant,' it was Matthew, 'well yes, I can go out to the scene.'

'Doctor,' Matthew contained his smile, he was in the office, 'I want to attend this one, so...'

'You need a lift.' Alice was well aware that Matthew would not be driving as none of the police issue cars were automatic transmission, and that Lucien usually drove him to any scene he had to attend.

'Please.'

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They drove out in silence to a rather grand house. Matthew noted she was a good driver.

'Smart neighbourhood.' Alice remarked, as she got out of the car and took her bag off the back seat.

'Used to be Neville Franklin's.' Matthew pulled himself out and leant on his cane. 'The estate sold it to a family, name of Gorton.'

'Right.' She waited for him to elaborate.

'Body found in the library, a piece of lead piping by her side.' He waited for her to say something. When she just looked at him he continued, 'apparently they were planning on re-enacting a board game, but someone beat them to it.'

'A board game?' They never held much interest for the pathologist, neither did jigsaws.

'Yes,' Matthew searched for anything in her eyes, 'Cluedo, they brought a copy over from England. Apparently the object of the exercise is to discover the murderer of Dr Black using a series of clues and characters, all named after colours.'

'Really. The deceased?'

'Mrs Gough, family friend, posing as the cook, Mrs White.' He indicated she preceded him, 'shall we?'

'Well the corpse isn't going to come to us.' She headed into the house, not noticing his smile and the gentle shake of his head.

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The library was a room Alice could have felt at home in. The walls were lined with all manner of texts, old and new. There were two comfortable looking armchairs either side of the fireplace, in front of which was a tastefully embroidered fire screen. There were other chairs, small side tables with lamps dotted about. It was a room for reading she decided, contemplation, not murder, as she stood in the doorway.

Charlie and Bill were standing over the body. Mrs Gough lay face down on a rug, expensive, Alice mused. Charlie looked up, 'Doc.' He hummed, much as he would have done if it was Blake that had arrived.

'Charlie.' She approached and placed her bag on the floor, then crouched down. The woman was dressed in a while blouse and skirt of a classic 'cook' costume with an apron tied round her waist. She wore a white baking cap, her hair was iron grey and dressed in a knot at the nape of her neck. A quick glance would have suggested she was just lying down and that nothing was wrong. There was no blood evident on the head, so... Alice put on a pair of surgical gloves and gently lifted the cap. Beneath the firm cloth was a dried mass of blood and hair, but no staining on the cap.

'This had been placed after the deed was done, sometime after.' She held up the cap and Charlie thoughtfully help open an envelope for her. 'Thank you Charlie.' She turned her attention to the possible weapon. Lifting it by both her fingertips at both ends she peered at it, turning it over. 'Well, if this was used it has been wiped clean. Luminol will tell me if there is any blood left on it.' Charlie held out another envelope, Matthew held out his free hand to help her up.

'Superintendant,' she nodded her thanks as she stood. 'Can I have the rug as well as the body? I will then be able to tell if she was killed here or elsewhere.'

'Bill, see to it,' Matthew grunted. He watched Alice put her gloves in her pocket for disposal later, and wander over to the shelves by the door. Police officers moved round them while she appeared to peruse the titles. Then she ran her hands over the shelves and looked at her fingertips, no dust or dirt. She sniffed,

'Recently polished,' she murmured, as much to herself as anyone. The ambos passed her and took the body out on a stretcher, Bill rolled the rug up and headed out of the room.

'Davies,' Matthew turned, aware he was staring, 'statements from everybody...'

'Fingerprints too...' Alice turned, 'and shoes, please.'

'Shoes?' Matthew gaped at her.

'Blood spatter.' She turned back to the books, 'somebody is rather interested in forensics, Matthew...' She pointed to a shelf. He didn't move, 'Matthew?' She usually addressed him by his title, he couldn't recall her using his first name, certainly not at work.

'Hmm?' He blinked, 'oh, really?'

'Yes, there are some papers by Glessner Lee, here, and some Sydney Smith and John Glaister.' She pointed to some well worn magazines and texts on a corner shelf.

'They are..?'

'Early practitioners.' She didn't smirk, she didn't expect him to know.

'Right.'

'Yes, well...' She turned back to him, '...I need to get back to the morgue, are you coming with me or Charlie?'

'I'd better stay,' he muttered, 'they are expecting a senior officer. I'll speak to the rest of them and come back with Charlie.'

'Right, I'll be off then.' She lifted her bag and headed for the door.

'Thanks,...Alice.' He waited for a reaction, and got none. An interesting woman.

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Alice found nothing she didn't expect in the autopsy. The killing blow had been dealt sometime before the police had been called. Just one blow had smashed the skull but Alice couldn't understand why there wasn't more blood, only that that had dried into the hair which, although thick, was not enough to prevent a bigger bleed. Something, she was sure, had to have absorbed most of it, and then the body positioned, with a, possibly, fresh cap placed on the head. A blow through whatever would have needed more strength than she herself possessed, so she assumed they were looking for a man. She took some blood samples, perhaps she had been immobilised before the blow was dealt, drugged. There was no evidence of smothering, no fibres around the mouth or bruising. A slight red mark around the throat but not strangulation. Possibly the reason for her losing consciousness before being hit. A choke hold would do it, she thought.

Having written the autopsy report, death due to a single blow to the head by person or persons unknown, she turned her attention to the rug. She doubted she would find anything and she was right, the rug was clean apart from a little face powder from the victim. She rolled it up and pursed her lips. She needed to find the pad that absorbed the blood and the location of the deed.

The lead piping revealed no blood traces or finger prints so she surmised that it was not the murder weapon.

The cap; the envelope was sitting on the side waiting for her to examine that.

She held it up over her hand and looked closely under the examination light first at the turned back brim then at the inside. There was no evidence of hair grip marks, yet without them it would have fallen off when she was standing. In fact it looked so new she was sure it had been placed on the body simply to hide the blood. Set dressing, Lucien would call it. The only thing real about the whole thing was the body of Mrs Gough.

The shoes hadn't been delivered so she was stuck, for now.

She needed to go back to the house.

'Is the superintendant back yet?' She stood just inside the office addressing everyone and no one.

'Still at the house.' Bill looked up, 'Charlie's there too.'

'Still taking statements?' She turned, 'can you ring and tell them I need to look around the house.' She left as Bill picked up the phone and shook his head, bloody odd woman. Now she was turning into Blake in a skirt!

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Matthew was talking to Herbert Gorton, the new owner of the property when Dr Harvey pulled up. He turned and tried to hide his smile as she got out of the car.

'Dr Harvey,' he raised his eyebrows, 'any news?'

'Only that I need to find a cloth pad,' she had to be careful what she revealed, that much she had learned from when Munro was in charge.

'Ri i i ght,' Matthew looked confused.

'I'll leave you to it, Lawson.' Gorton's voice was gruff and his accent...she couldn't place it. Matthew nodded and shook his hand, then watched him head off towards the gardens.

'So, doctor,' he turned towards Alice, 'what have you got for me?'

'The lead piping and the cap were set dressing, not the murder weapon and the cap was just to hide the injury, placed after the act. I think,' she looked at him trying to gauge if she had got it right, that he wanted this information here, on the doorstep. He nodded to her to continue, ' I think that whoever hit her may have caused her to lose consciousness with a choke hold. An absorbent pad had to be held on her head and the blow delivered onto it. There isn't enough blood in the hair. Alternatively, she was drugged, put in position, a cloth pad put over the back of her head and then hit with something heavy by somebody very strong.' She looked at him, his mouth open in astonishment.

'Bloody hell!' He gasped, 'sorry, I mean, really?'

Alice gave him, what Lucien described as, the death stare. 'Yes, superintendant, really.'

He blushed and scratched his head. 'Well, doctor, don't let me stop you.' He stood aside.

Now Alice knew how Lucien did searches but was unsure about doing one on her own, so ...

'Would you care to join me, Matthew?' She put her hands in her coat pocket, 'two heads, four eyes...' She almost smiled.

'I'd be delighted,' he grinned, the blush fading.

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'I'm thinking something like a tea towel,' Alice remarked as they headed to the kitchen.

'Sounds reasonable.' He agreed, 'or a hand towel.'

She hummed her agreement, 'could be.'

The kitchen door was scuffed around the handle, but no more than anyone would expect. Alice and Matthew looked around. There was little evidence of activity, but, apparently it had been a cold buffet which had been laid out in the dining room. The staff would then be on hand to help guests and take away the dirty plates. Some of the used crockery was in the sink, glasses were on the counter waiting to be washed and some cutlery and flatware as well.

'Bins!' They said in unison. Alice was beginning to enjoy herself. They pushed through the back door and to the garbage bins.

Matthew dropped the lid of the first bin on the floor with a resounding 'clang!' He used his stick to turn over the rubbish and poke into the darkest regions of the can.

'Hey!' He hooked the end of his stick under a previously white cloth, 'what about this?'

Alice took a corner of the material in between her fingertips and lifted it out. 'This is it!' She was almost gleeful, 'look, blood, concentrated. Matthew...'

'But,' he cautioned, 'what was the weapon?'

Alice lay the cloth on the floor and followed the creases to fold it back to its original shape. There was a distinct impression of force in the centre of the small, padded square of linen.

'From the shape,' she put her finger in the depression, 'something around the size of an inch in diameter, rounded, a ball shape.' She looked up, 'is there a shed, a workshop?'

They looked around. There were lovely gardens but no indication of a shed.

'Cellar?' Matthew suggested.

'Possibly.' She agreed lifting the tea towel, 'my father used the cellar as a workshop.'

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The door to the cellar was in the kitchen. Opening it they saw a flight of stone steps leading down into pitch black. Matthew looked round for a light switch or pull and found it by the door frame.

'Doesn't do much, does it?' He mused.

'I'll be fine,' Alice stepped onto the first step down.

'Wait!' He grabbed her shoulder, 'you can't go down there.'

'Can't I?' She thought that was the object of the exercise.

'No, not on your own.'

She looked up into his eyes at first thinking he was going to do the whole, 'you're a woman' thing.

'Lucien...'

'...is taller and heavier than you, and has combat experience.' Matthew had no idea what was down there, and, damn his knee, he would not be able to help her should she be in danger. 'Wait until I get Charlie, please?'

Her shoulders dropped, but she supposed he was right. 'Very well, superintendant.'

'Alice...' He sighed, 'I don't doubt you are capable of looking after yourself, but...' he let the sentence hang in the air.

She had time to think about what he said, or rather, hadn't, said. She supposed he cared, perhaps, maybe, and the use of her first name, rather than her title in that moment. She heaved a sigh and waited for him to return with the senior sergeant.

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Charlie had taken the time to fetch a torch from his car and this helped illuminate the cellar and stairs. The room was filled with boxes and crates, an old, unwanted wardrobe, some suitcases. Alice looked round with an analytical eye. Any hiding places would be difficult to get out of quickly without making a lot of noise. Charlie played the beam of light over the darkest recesses of the place then brought the beam over the wardrobe to the floor to look for footprints in the dust. Alice followed the beam and suddenly put her hand on his arm, holding it as the beam went back up the wardrobe. He turned to her and she put a finger to her lips for silence, then nodded at the piece of furniture. The door was very slightly ajar. She leant forward and reached out to the handle. A she touched it the door flew open and sent her flying backwards as a figure barrelled out and straight into Charlie.

Alice shouted, 'Matthew!' as she stood up and put her hand to her forehead.

'Oy!' Charlie yelled grabbing at a shirt but was knocked over.

At the top of the stairs Lawson was ready, standing to the left of the door jamb and sticking his right foot out. The man tripped and fell flat on the kitchen floor, temporarily stunning himself. He groaned, but as he tried to get up the Superintendant was leaning with his good knee in the centre of his back as he pulled his arms round and slapped the handcuffs on his wrists.

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Charlie pushed himself up and looked at Dr Harvey. She had a surprised expression on her face, as if that shouldn't have happened to her, which it shouldn't. Her hand was covering the part of her forehead the door had hit.

'You ok?' Charlie went over to her.

'Er...yes...but...' She pulled her hand away to reveal a red mark and a small cut. Charlie reached into his pocket, silently thanking Jean for ensuring he had a clean handkerchief each morning.

'Here,' he passed the white cotton to her.

'Thank you.' She smiled, 'perhaps the superintendant was right.'

'He usually is.' Charlie played the torch beam up the stairs and watched her head up, he thought a little shakily.

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Alice stopped just short of the top of the stairs. Matthew was kneeling on the back of the man who had burst out of the wardrobe.

'You got him then?' She muttered.

'Yeah...' he turned and looked at her, 'Dr Harvey, what happened?'

'Erm.. ' she was embarrassed, 'he was hiding in the wardrobe. When I touched the handle he leapt out and the door hit my head.'

Matthew looked shocked,

'I'm fine, superintendant, really,' she tried a half smile.

Charlie appeared at her shoulder, 'Boss?' He addressed his superior officer, 'would you like me to escort this person to the station?'

'I want to know what he was doing here, in the first place.' Matthew snarled.

'All I wanted,' the man on the floor gasped, 'was to be recognised, as her son.'

'Her son,' Matthew hissed, 'whose son?'

'Agatha Gough.'

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Charlie took the man down to the station and left Superintendant Lawson and Dr Harvey considering what had happened.

'Do you think there is anything in Mrs Gough's room, to help us?' Alice asked. 'If he killed her what else did he want?'

'I don't know, but..' Matthew looked at the handkerchief she still held to the cut on her forehead, 'does that need attention?' He pointed.

'I'm sure it's fine.' She pulled the cloth away, 'there isn't much blood.'

'Doctor..'

'Exactly, superintendant, I am a doctor.' She looked him square in the eye and he backed down.

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Matthew had asked Gorton which room Mrs Gough had used and he showed him and Alice a spacious bedroom on the first floor. It looked tidy, the bed had not yet been turned down and the dress the lady had worn was draped over a chair by the dressing table. There was a jewellery case, a soft velvet roll used for transporting necklaces and bracelets, open on the table. It seemed to be complete, each section had an item of, very expensive and rather garish, jewellery in it. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed.

'Do you think we got here before he could finish the job?' Alice mused. 'If she wouldn't acknowledge him, he may be after money...'

'Hmm...' Matthew sat down on a plush stool. 'I think I need to see this young man,' he looked up at Alice, 'and you need to get that cut seen to.'

'If you want a lift back,' Alice looked at him sternly, 'you may want to leave the medical stuff to me.' But she smiled as his obvious concern.

'Duly noted.' He pushed himself up on his cane, he was not able to chase her anywhere but felt their relationship was moving up a level.

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Alice left Matthew at the station and went to attend to her forehead.

Down in the morgue she used a hand mirror to see what she was doing and cleaned up the small cut. The bleeding had stopped, the cut was dry and may leave a tiny scar, but that could be hidden with makeup and her hair, if she was careful. She covered it with a plaster and went back to the station to see the man they had apprehended and she was interested in the statements from the other party goers.

She peered through the window of the interview room. Matthew and Charlie were sitting at one side of the table and the possible murderer opposite them. Possible because he did not have the build she thought was needed to give such a heavy blow. Was he just in the wrong place and the wrong time? The other burning question was, where was Mrs Gough actually killed? She went back to the office and asked Bill for the statements. He saw no reason why she shouldn't look over them, and passed them to her. Sitting at Matthew's desk she started to read.

Mr Gorton, born in Lancashire, England; that must be why she didn't recognise his accent; he had suggested the party as a way to get to meet his nearest neighbours.

She remembered he was a stocky man, would probably have the strength to deliver such a blow. He had been the one to find the body. (Colonel Mustard). Alice assumed the names in brackets were the characters, and, as they were dressed in the appropriate colours it made it easy for her to identify then, from what she saw in the house.

Mrs Gorton, second wife, from Adelaide. Alice wondered how he had met her, still, that was not the issue. She had phoned for the police and ambos. She had been talking to Mr Gough when her husband went to find Agatha so they could start the evening's activities. (Miss Scarlett).

Mr Gough, self made man, from Sydney, now resident in Ballarat. She wondered if he was the man in the chair she had briefly noticed when she entered the house. He and his wife had been married for over forty years. They had no children. (Reverend Green).

Sadie Gorton, Mr Gorton's daughter from his first marriage. Aged eighteen. (Mrs Peacock) From what Alice remembered a vague blonde in the corner, smoking, cigarette in a long holder.

Alan Smith, an acquaintance of Sadie's. An artist living in Ballarat. (Professor Plum) Any one less like a Professor Alice had never seen. Effete, dark haired, slender. She decided he would blow over in a strong wind! Not enough upper body weight to deliver such a blow, or administer a choke hold.

The only possible murderers in the party were Mr Gorton and Mr Gough. But why?

The suspect was to be housed in the cells for the rest of the night. He vehemently denied murdering his mother, saying he had only gone to see if she would acknowledge she had a son who was not her husband's.

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Matthew wrapped the case up for the night, or rather the early hours. It was now gone one in the morning and everybody was very tired. Alice caught him in the corridor, leaning heavily on his cane.

'Come on, Superintendant,' she sighed, 'time to go home.'

'Same for you, too, doctor,' he smiled tiredly, thinking she looked a little pale.

'Can I talk to you about the suspect, in the morning?' Not even Alice Harvey could handle that after a full day in the morgue and a murder investigation. She wanted to have a clear head for this, and, she admitted to herself, she did have a bit of a headache.

'Surely,' he agreed, 'I'll see you then.' His stomach rumbled, rather loudly.

'Have you eaten?' Alice, while no cook, at least managed to eat regularly. But it would appear he hadn't had dinner, neither had she, come to think of it.

'I doubt you have either, Alice.' Matthew couldn't have his police surgeon keeling over through lack of nourishment. 'Follow me to my house, Jean left me with enough food to feed a regiment when she and Lucien went to see Christopher.'

'She is a very generous woman.' Alice thought, almost longingly, of one of Jean's meals.

'Well, best not let it go to waste then,' he grinned and headed down to his car.

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Alice being Alice, saw nothing wrong in a single woman turning up to a single man's home in the small hours, and ignored the twitching of the curtains in one upstairs room opposite. She was a colleague of the superintendant's and they were investigating a murder, what could be more natural than to discuss it over a meal, whatever time it was?

Matthew found some cold meat and salad in the fridge, there was bread and the remains of a fruit pie. Alice thought back to the contents of her fridge in her tiny flat, milk for her tea, butter, cheese...not much else she could recall. If she was lucky she could have some toast for breakfast, or a cheese sandwich. Anyway, that was of no consequence at this time.

Matthew showed her where he kept his crockery and cutlery so she set the table, and filled a jug with water.

As they ate she told him her thoughts, that the younger man, now known as John Pegg; his adopted name; was not strong enough to deliver the blow.

'But who else?' Matthew pushed his plate to the side.

'Her husband?' Alice stood up and took both plates to the sink. 'Perhaps as revenge for finding out his wife had been unfaithful.'

'But how did he know?' Matthew pulled a chair to the sink and dried the plates as she washed them.

'We need to look into the background, the marriage.' She passed him a glass, 'was he away for a time, did she go away, did they have a period of separation?'

'Blimey, Alice,' he gasped, 'how did you come up with that scenario?'

'My parents were apart for a while, not long,' She inhaled deeply, 'dad was... anyway, he came back and my sister arrived sometime later. Maybe she thought he wasn't coming back, missed the physical side of the relationship...'

Matthew always thought Alice lived in her own little bubble but it would appear she had an experience of life that gave her insight into other people's lives.

'Whisky?' He folded the tea towel and heaved his tired body out of the chair.

Alice considered the offer for a minute,

'It's nearly three in the morning, Matthew,' She smiled and then yawned, 'perhaps when we have closed the case..?'

'Of course,' Matthew knew she was right, but it would have been nice, 'then we can toast our success.'

'Indeed.'

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Alice slipped into bed, naked, as usual. Jean would be astonished, she thought. Though why she should worry about what Jean thought about her night attire was odd. She would have enjoyed talking over the case with Matthew and a whisky but even she had her limits, and three in the morning was passed her limit.

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The following morning Alice and Matthew called at the Gough's house. Mr Gough was in the conservatory, apparently watering his house plants.

'Superintendant, doctor,' he indicated they should sit and ordered his housekeeper to fetch tea. 'How can I help you?'

'Well,' Alice started but Matthew put his hand on her arm.

'The thing is, Mr Gough,' he smiled, 'the boy we have in custody says he is your wife's son.'

'But we didn't have children.' Mr Gough huffed. 'How could he be?'

'Well, we were wondering...' Alice interrupted, 'did you have a period apart?'

'Not intentionally.' Mr Gough sat back in his chair, 'I had to go abroad, I deal in machine parts. I had to go and see a factory in Germany. Agatha didn't want to come with me, so I left her here.'

'How long were you gone?' Matthew threw Alice a look which warned her to be careful.

'Oh, er, let me see,' He put his fingers to his head, ' I went in the April and returned in the September.'

'How was your wife, when you returned?' Matthew asked.

'She was well, as far as I recall, I say, Lawson,' Mr Gough began to get agitated, 'what are you getting at?'

'The year?' Matthew continued to question.

'Er...nineteen thirty-five,' Mr Gough mumbled, 'well before the war...'

'Did...' Alice stopped, knowing what she was about to say would tie his wife to the birth of John Pegg the following year.

'Thank you for your help, Mr Gough,' Matthew stood and nodded to Alice, 'we'll be in touch.'

'Matthew?' Alice pulled the car out of the drive, 'there was so much we needed to ask? Did Agatha go away for a length of time?'

'And we will,' he smiled at her impatience and innocence, 'first we need to see Pegg's birth certificate. Agatha Gough may have had a lover before he went away, entirely plausible...'

'Well, he's not exactly...' she knew what she wanted to say, but not how to say it. 'He seems more interested in his houseplants and not particularly upset about her death.'

'Yes, well...' Matthew grinned, 'perhaps the marriage wasn't what she thought it would be and took a lover, got pregnant and had to have the baby adopted. If she went away for a holiday, a cure, then...'

'I suppose so.' Alice sighed, 'these things, they are hard to navigate, it would seem.'

'Babies born on the wrong side of the bed sheets, Alice,' he sighed, 'are often given up for adoption, it's rare they are taken into the family.'

'It's not their fault,' she pouted, which Matthew thought interesting, she didn't seem the pouting kind.

'No, it isn't,' he agreed.

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Charlie looked at all the paper work they had. John Pegg handed over his birth certificate which showed he was born in 1936, April 10th. His mother was named as Agatha Gough, father not named.

'So,' Matthew sighed, they were right, John Pegg was not Gough's son, but he was Agatha's, 'I wonder who his father was.'

'They seem to be well to do,' Charlie noted, 'money to be made in machinery. This is when we need Jean.' He almost laughed.

'Where they live?' Alice asked, ' did they live there when John was born? Did they have household staff?'

'Apart from the housekeeper they have now?' Matthew mused, 'may have had.'

'Only Mr Gough will be able to tell us.' Alice sighed. 'Perhaps you could ask John if Mr Gough was aware of his wife's transgression.'

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'He knows now,' Pegg grunted, 'we were talking, in the garden, and he came out to find her.'

'Who told him?' Alice was allowed into the interview this time.

'That would be me.' He looked down at his hands. 'She didn't want to, but he persisted in asking, demanding to know who I was, what I was doing there.'

'I take it he wasn't pleased.' Matthew tapped his pen.

'God no!' John snapped, 'he was furious. She tried to calm him down, told him it was all in the past. That hurt, but I could see what she was trying to do. He wanted to know why she had betrayed him.'

'Did she tell him?' Alice asked, keen to get the whole story.

'She did, boy did she tell him. How he hadn't been much of a husband. If he wasn't in the factory he was with his blasted plants. He stormed off.' John sighed. 'I got the impression she continued the affair but they took precautions after I was born.'

'Do you think he is capable of killing her?' Matthew asked.

'In the state he was in, I should think so.' John's eyes filled with tears. 'I know she didn't want anything to do with me, but maybe I caught her at the wrong time, a party, posh people. Maybe I should have gone to her house when she was on her own.'

'Why did you hide?' Alice asked, 'down there, in the cellar?'

'I thought I could see her later, really,' he sighed, 'I wanted to say I was sorry, for embarrassing her. I've studied social history, our story was a product of the time. Perhaps if he'd been a more attentive husband she could have passed me off as his, but...'

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'We still haven't found the weapon,' Matthew sipped his tea, 'without that...'

'It must still be somewhere in the house.' Alice noted simply. 'Unless he put it in his suitcase and took it home.'

'Of course!' Charlie stood up, 'that's it! The only place we didn't look. Why would we, he's the bereaved. Bloody hell!'

'Get on it, Davies!' Matthew stood up, a little too quickly for his knee, but he managed to remain upright, 'take Hobart with you!'

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Gough himself was out, at his factory, according to his housekeeper.

'Of course you can look at his suitcase.' She smiled, ever helpful, that was why Mrs Gough hired her, 'this way.'

She showed the two officers up to Mr Gough's room where the suitcase sat on his bed.

'I should have unpacked for him, but with your superintendant coming, and Mrs Gough's death,' she sniffed at the memory, 'she was a kind lady. I haven't got round to it. She used to do things like that.'

Charlie put a pair of gloves on and undid the case, lifting the lid and carefully taking out the clothes Mr Gough had worn as Reverend Green. Wrapped in newspaper between the shirt and jacket was a ball pein hammer. Bill held out an envelope. 'Looks like what we expected to find.' He mumbled, making sure the housekeeper could not see anything.

'Yeah. Better get it back to Dr Harvey.' Charlie mumbled back, 'and the rest of the stuff. She said something about a choke hold so maybe there's something on the clothing too.'

'Bloody hell,' Bill whispered, 'she's turning into Blake.'

Charlie smiled, Alice would probably take that as a compliment.

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Alice took the hammer and looked closely at it, then put the rounded part into the dent in the folded cloth. It fitted rather well, she thought. The luminol showed blood on the hammer,

'Definitely the weapon,' she held it up as Matthew turned on the main light for her. 'He must have used some force.'

'He's a well built man,' Matthew held out the envelope for the hammer. 'If she had already been immobilised...'

'Yes,' Alice picked up the jacket and examined the sleeved. 'Look...' she beckoned Matthew over, 'see here...' she swept her finger over the crease in the right elbow, '...face powder, from her makeup.'

'So he used a choke hold,' Matthew looked at her, 'cut off her air supply so she passed out, and then...' He mimed bringing the hammer down. 'But where did he do it? If he did it in their bedroom he would have to carry her downstairs to the library. You said the rug was clean.'

'...of blood, yes.' She agreed, 'but then I didn't know about the pad to absorb the blood. If he knocked her out in the library he would have time to go and get the hammer, I doubt he took it with him on the off chance he might murder someone, then go and hit her. Put her cap on her head and then go about his part in the activities. He must have hidden the hammer and taken it up to his room when everybody was changing back into their usual clothes.'

'Well, we better get him in and interview him, then.' Matthew rubbed his knee.

'You taking the pain killers Lucien gave you?' She looked him in the eye.

'I'm fine.' He took his cane and left as quickly as he could, it was bad enough Blake going on at him without her starting. The pain made him bad tempered and he wasn't going to take it out on Alice. She shook her head as she watched him leave.

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Mr Gough was not happy about being dragged from his factory. He had business to attend to, he huffed and blustered. He reminded Matthew of Patrick Tyneman, when Blake got involved in a case. Matthew was enjoying working with Alice, not really missing Lucien on this case. Alice at least waited for him to agree to her actions.

'Why would I kill my wife?' He grunted, folding his arms as he faced the superintendant and police surgeon in the interview room.

Matthew looked at Alice and gave a slight nod to his head,

'Oh, well,' she said airily, 'perhaps because you had just found out she had given birth to a child that was not yours, had an affair with someone while you were out making deals to provide her with a certain lifestyle... that would certainly give many men a reason to do away with their spouses.' She raised her eyebrows.

Mr Gough glared at her, she took no notice, she was used to it. 'Where is the proof he's her's?'

'His birth certificate,' Matthew waved the document out of the file, 'but it doesn't give his father.'

'I found her in the library,' Mr Gough grunted, 'we argued again. She said she wished she had never married me, that she was only there for decoration. I've always had a temper, but it got me where I am today...'

'...being charged with your wife's murder.' Matthew noted.

'...you put your arm round her neck, didn't you?' Alice watched him, he didn't seem to care, 'then when she passed out you decided to finish the job, with a hammer from the cellar.'

'Actually the hammer was outside,' Mr Gough smirked at her, 'one of Gorton's men had been repairing the lattice work on the side of the house, for the clematis.'

'So why the set dressing?' Alice was curious, 'why make it look like she was killed with the lead pipe?'

'You had the foresight to use a pad to stem the bleeding.' Matthew murmured, 'seems rather calculating to me.'

'Precisely, superintendant.' Alice nodded.

'It was a murder party, why not have an actual murder?' He sat back in his chair, now rather pleased with himself, 'I guess you win, Lawson.'

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'I had a visit from Patrick this afternoon, as I left.' Matthew observed as he poured Alice the promised whisky from the previous night. 'Apparently, when Charlie and Bill went to arrest Gough he was just finishing selling his company to him. Patrick is, of course, furious that he has been dealing with a murderer.'

Alice smiled, 'No wonder he didn't seem too worried about killing his wife.' She took the glass from him, 'I expect Patrick thinks it will have an effect on sales.'

'Machine parts will always be needed,' Matthew sat next to her on the couch, 'now,' he looked at her, 'Rose is getting the full story from Charlie so...'

Alice looked at him, what was he up to?

'...Alice, it has been a pleasure working with you on this case, but...' he gazed into his glass, it had been some time since he'd asked a girl out, not that Alice was a 'girl', 'I was wondering if you would consider dining with me one evening this week.'

'Are you asking me out on a date, superintendant?' She arched one eyebrow.

'I suppose I am, doctor.'

'Well, in that case, I'd be delighted.

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Alice stretched and smiled. A month ago she had been the police surgeon on a murder case, working closely with Superintendant Lawson, that had led to dinner, more than once, whisky nightcaps and now...he even said he liked the mole on her hip. In fact as he had kissed it lightly during his explorations of her body, he had told her that she was lovely to him, then made love to her like she had never been made love to before. She was right, Matthew was different.

Matthew pulled her close to him, and didn't mind when she put her, surprisingly warm, hand on his knee, the heat did help. Maybe he should try a warm bath, perhaps she could help, he smiled wickedly to himself.


End file.
